Benjamin Ashwood Series: Books 1-3 (Benjamin Box)

by AC Cobble

  But the illusion was short-lived. He elicited a groan as he rolled over to his back. The prospect of sitting was forgotten when his vision swam with streaks of color in the dark room. A wave of bile threatened to fight its way up his throat.

  “Awake now?”

  The slightly familiar voice brought it all back. The theft, the fight in the courtyard, and now what? He was surprised he still lived. From his back, Ben could see the walls of a dimly lit room slowly come into focus. A sturdy oak door was the only break in the stone walls. The floor was uncomfortably hard, and it was coated in a heavy layer of dust. The rest of it really didn’t matter, it was a prison. That’s all he needed to know. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss their confinement with the person who got him there, so he remained silent.

  “I want to thank you for standing up for me,” continued the boy they called Renfro, undaunted by Ben’s refusal to acknowledge him. “I haven’t had a lot of people do that for me, so it means something. Well, it would if we weren’t locked in here.”

  Ben succumbed to curiosity. “And where is here?”

  “Basement of the Thieves’ Guild. They’ll hold us here until they execute us.”

  Ben groaned again. The details of how and why they would be killed seemed strangely unimportant. Renfro had accepted his fate and Ben was inclined to follow him. He just had another hard lesson that he was no hero in a story. Breaking out of prison, fighting off the pursuing bad guys, and saving the girl—well, thief in this case—that was the kind of thing that only happened in stories. He was learning that real life was much more painful. He couldn’t summon the unassailable hope that all of the story heroes had.

  Renfro fell silent. Ben suspected he was normally a very talkative fellow, but the depressing circumstances made for difficult conversation.

  They sat like that for several bells, Ben staring at the rough wooden ceiling, inhaling the musty scent of the room, and hearing scratches and squeaks of what had to be rats. Over time, the throbbing in his head started to fade. The monotony of the cell crept in on him.

  He wanted to turn his thoughts off, but couldn’t. His mind raced through the possibilities earlier in the afternoon. Given the result, he felt he must have decided incorrectly, but he still couldn’t convince himself that leaving Renfro to die would have been right. Whatever Renfro’s crimes, he should face judgment from the proper authorities, not a gang of thugs.

  Eventually, the silence in the room was broken by approaching footsteps and a key sliding noisily into the oak door.

  Ben was surprised when Casper and a woman entered. The woman sat a white, linen napkin-covered tray on the floor and quickly disappeared back through the open door.

  Casper nudged the tray with his boot. “Food and water. We’ll keep you alive, for now. I suggest you eat it before the rats do.”

  Seeing Casper’s boot drew Ben’s attention to the rest of him. In the streets, he had been dressed like a sailor with torn pants, shirtless, and a dirty knit cap. Now, he was decked out in finery more befitting a lord’s throne room than a dungeon. Casper was wearing a billowing snow white silk shirt, snug dark-colored pants, fine leather boots, and a wide silver studded belt. On one hip, he had a wire-handled rapier, and on the other a jewel-pommeled dagger. He had the look of a dashing buccaneer from Ben’s imagination.

  “I had to come talk to the boy who risked his life to save someone who stole from him. I can only assume you have an interesting perspective on this.” Casper squatted down near Ben, unafraid in his own dungeon. “Tell me about it.”

  “Why should I tell you anything? Aren’t you going to kill me?” muttered Ben.

  “No, I will not kill you. Your fate has not been decided, but you did seriously injure my friend Balbo. It is he who will decide what is in store for you.”

  Renfro snorted in the corner. “He will kill you.”

  Casper offered a wan smile. “Yes, it is likely he will. I suppose a thoughtful man might find out if you had rich or powerful friends, forgive the injury, and attempt a ransom. Balbo is not a thoughtful man though. If I enjoyed betting, which I do, I would bet that when he recovers from his wound he will beat you to death with his bare hands.”

  Ben grimaced and wondered how he could get out of this. Casper acted polite, but his calm, urbane tone when speaking of murder led Ben to believe he would get no sympathy from him. Lady Towaal or Amelie likely had money to pay a ransom. He didn’t want to put them in danger though. They had Saala and Rhys for protection, but Ben didn’t know anything about these thieves. There could be hundreds of them for all he knew.

  “Regardless of what happens when Balbo recovers,” Casper continued, “you are not going anywhere right now. You might as well tell me about yourself. Why did you try to save the boy?”

  Ben sighed. Casper was right, he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Talking to Casper couldn’t make this situation any worse. “I tried to save him because I don’t think he should have been killed in the street. He should be held responsible for his crimes, but it should be by the rightful authorities. You are judging him for theft, but unless I am mistaken, you are also a thief?”

  “Ha, you are right about that. You have an interesting philosophy, boy. Let me tell you mine. I am a thief and worse, it is true, but so is Renfro. Who better to judge him than his fellow thieves? He entered our society on his own free will and knew the stakes. And like any society, there are certain rules and expectations. Any social organization must have rules. When a person violates those rules, they must be held accountable. If they are not, the organization breaks down, and the society cannot function.” Casper paused as if to let Ben ask a question then continued, “Renfro agreed to our rules and now he has broken them. We cannot allow that or everyone will think it is okay to break the rules. We will only have chaos.”

  Ben responded, “He broke your rules, but he also broke the rules of Fabrizo, along with you and whoever else is in this society of yours. Just because you formed a little group of criminals does not mean you’re not all criminals. You’re still subject to the law of the land.”

  “Ah, but what makes us subject to these laws of the land?” asked Casper with a smile. “I don’t recall agreeing to anything like that. Why am I subject to the laws of a society I did not willingly join?”

  “You are in Fabrizo under your own free will and I am certain that there is a law against stealing here. If you do not agree with that law, but you insist on stealing, you could leave.”

  Ben felt himself being drawn into the debate with Casper. The man had more depth than the street thug Ben took him to be at first. It wasn’t just his clothing, this man spoke like he was part of high society and would have no problem passing as an acquaintance of Amelie’s. Ben’s perception of a guild of thieves was quickly changing. These were not just alley lurkers and head knockers.

  “You are correct again, boy. I am in Fabrizo under my free will and I am aware of the laws of this town, but I do not consider myself subject to them, and so far your ‘authorities’ have not been able to make me subject to them. If they do not have the power to enforce their laws, then do they have the right to make them? I and the other members of our guild have taken certain liberties with the property of individuals in Fabrizo, and we have the power to get away with it. Are we any more or less right to institute our rules on the people who choose to live here than, say, the Merchants’ Guild? But more importantly for our discussion, we have given ourselves authority to serve justice on our own—those who not only choose to live here but choose to join us. Surely you agree, if you conjecture we are subject to the laws of Fabrizo by merely being within its boundary, then certainly a member of our guild who joined voluntarily is subject to the rules of the guild?”

  Ben felt himself being outmatched by the thief. He knew in his heart what was right, but this man had a way with words. He was twisting what Ben said and what he thought and turning it into something completely different.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of the room,
Renfro interjected, “I’m right here! This talk about rules, law, and whatever is interesting, I’m sure, but what does that change?”

  Casper shifted his weight and looked at Renfro. “It doesn’t change anything. You will be held here until the Merchant Mallan returns, and then you will be executed. He wanted to see it himself.” He gestured to their surroundings. “Unfortunately, you will be stuck in this room until that time. I apologize. We are used to making a decision and doing these things rather quickly. I don’t remember the last time we needed a place to store prisoners.” He stood and turned to leave. At the doorway, he nodded to Ben. “Interesting speaking with you, boy. Maybe under different circumstances, we could have become friends.”

  The heavy oak door slammed shut with finality. They could only wait now.

  Ben and Renfro found water and bread under the napkin on the tray. The tray itself was etched silver. Yet another surprise. These thieves were clearly doing well. Ben’s imagination of a gang of dirty miscreants skulking in the city sewers vanished entirely.

  Renfro ran a finger along the rim of the silver tray. “We could steal this,” he muttered.

  Ben raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply.

  The bread and water on the tray wasn’t an ideal meal, but it satisfied. They started to relax as much as possible, given the circumstances.

  “So, what exactly did you do to this Merchant Mallan?” inquired Ben.

  Renfro rubbed his hand across his face. “It wasn’t my fault, really. I found out that there was a cargo of Ishlanese carpets coming into port, unguarded. I also knew about an out-of-work captain who was willing to take a large risk for a large profit. I arranged for a distraction and the captain and his men lifted the carpets. I thought I was sure to be elevated to a full guild member. Turns out, this particular cargo was personally guaranteed by an Elder in the guild. He apparently invests alongside Mallan in his cargoes and handles security.

  Ben winced. “You’re telling me you stole an entire shipload of goods from one of the most senior thieves in Fabrizo?”

  “Yeah. Like I said though, it wasn’t really my fault. I just helped with a distraction. I wasn’t the one who stole it!”

  “You didn’t know it was this guild Elder’s cargo?” asked Ben with a growing sense of incredulity.

  “Well, I guess you’re supposed to clear these kind of things with the guild,” explained Renfro. “I didn’t really know that since boosting ships isn’t my normal gig. More of a one-time opportunity thing.”

  Ben could only shake his head. He still didn’t believe the guild should have the right to execute Renfro, but he understood why they might want to.

  Renfro continued, seemingly feeling little remorse for the theft. “I almost got away with it, too. Just needed a little more coin to buy passage on a ship and get out of town. Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “Wait,” Ben exclaimed, “you stole an entire cargo of carpets and still didn’t have enough coin to buy passage out of here?”

  Renfro grunted and stared down at his feet. “The captain I was working with sailed out of port before I could get my payment. I’m getting paid in advance next time.”

  Ben felt enough sympathy to not bring up how unlikely he thought it was there would be a next time.

  After the food and water, Ben finally felt recovered enough to get up and explore his surroundings. There wasn’t much to see. The room must have originally been a storeroom. There were stone floors, stone walls, and the stout oak door. They had a pot in the corner for personal use. The walls had a few weep holes but the squeaks and scratching coming from them turned him away from further exploration. They were too small for him to fit even a hand through, and they had no tools to try enlarging them anyway. It would be no help for escape.

  Ben spent a few moments examining the door but he quickly realized it was hopeless. There was a doorknob that wouldn’t turn and it had no keyhole to lock-pick like they would have done in a story.

  They had a flickering torch stuck in an iron ring on the wall and he briefly thought about trying to burn their way out, maybe through the door or the ceiling. He quickly dismissed that idea once he realized the practical reality of being locked inside a burning room.

  He glanced back at Renfro to see if the thief would have any suggestions but he was still sitting in the corner with his head in his hands and solely focused on his feet. And after hearing his tale, Ben didn’t have a lot of confidence in Renfro’s thieving skills anyway.

  Eventually, Ben settled down in his own corner of the room and waited.

  He woke up, startled, to the door banging open. Casper was again standing in the doorway with a grim expression on his face. This time he was not holding a food tray. He gestured out the door and growled, “Come along.”

  Ben’s heart sank. He had accepted he was powerless in this situation, but he held out hope that somehow he would be rescued. He had spent little time with them, but he already thought of Saala, Rhys, and Amelie as his friends. At the very least, he knew he could count on Meghan to search for him. He thought that somehow they might be able to find him and pay a ransom. This Balbo was a thief after all, Ben hoped he’d take the easy coin in lieu of revenge.

  “Both of you,” ordered Casper.

  Ben looked at Renfro and saw he was also surprised that both of them were being called out. The odds that both of their executioners were waiting right at this moment seemed an unusual coincidence.

  The hallway outside was similar to the storage room, a series of oak doors down a long stone corridor. Ben noted that there had been no guards stationed outside—a sign that the thieves had also believed escape was futile.

  Casper was waiting in the hallway alone, another odd detail. Either he was supremely confident in his abilities or maybe something else was happening. Maybe Casper’s grim face wasn’t because he was leading two men to their death.

  “So, I take it we’ll live to see another day?” guessed Ben.

  Casper turned toward him and smirked. “You are a bright one, aren’t you? Yes, despite my protests, the guild has decided you will be released. Nothing personal. Rule of law and all.”

  Released. So his friends had come through and paid the ransom. Ben couldn’t help a smile coming to his face and the hallway suddenly seemed a little brighter.

  They followed Casper up a set of rough stone stairs and into the back of a huge kitchen. It was finely appointed, but had the same feel as the kitchen at the Buckhorn Tavern back in Farview. There were a handful of kitchen workers who all ignored the trio coming out of their storerooms. From the looks of things, Ben could tell they had just finished preparing breakfast for a large group.

  As they exited the kitchen, he saw early morning sunlight streaming in through tall, clear windows, and heard the now familiar noises of Fabrizo. He was shocked because they were in what appeared to be a very large, very well-decorated palace. As they made their way along broad hallways, he noticed rich carpets, paintings on the walls, silver candlesticks, and other trappings of wealth. He realized before long that this was, by far, the richest building he had ever been in.

  As he eyed the artwork that hung along the sun lit corridors, his perception of these thieves continued to change. Ben knew nothing of artwork. It was a luxury no one in Farview could afford, but someone with a great deal of skill had spent a lot of time painting the pictures and sewing the tapestries. There were gold bowls and silver sconces scattered around as well, but tastefully so. Their wealth was displayed casually, not carelessly.

  Renfro, scuttling along behind Casper and Ben, asked, “So this is headquarters? First time I’ve been here.”

  Casper looked over his shoulder at him. “First and last. Not even all of the guild members know where this place is. And none of the younglings, of course.” He gave Renfro a hard look then waved toward Ben. “Your new friend has his own friend, a bit of a famous friend in certain circles. First I can remember that we’ve allowed someone not sworn to the guild to walk out
of here alive. I’m responsible for the security of this place, along with dealing with a variety of other unpleasant issues. I didn’t want anyone to walk out of here this time either.” He shrugged. “But I was overruled. Like I said, he is known to us. He made assurances to the Elders, which I’m sure he will explain. Between you and me though, if you ever speak a word of this place to anyone, then we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  “Nothing personal, right?” quipped Ben.

  Casper didn’t respond.

  At the end of the hall, he pushed open two double doors and they entered a plush room to find Rhys relaxing on a comfortable-looking, overstuffed velvet couch. He was sipping a glass of wine. The walls of the room were covered in bookshelves. Ben’s eyes popped open at the display. At most, he’d seen the one shelf full of maybe twenty books that Alistair Pinewood kept. There were tens of thousands of them here. He couldn’t even begin to calculate the gold it would take to stock this kind of library.

  When they entered, Rhys tipped up his wine glass and gulped the rest of the drink before standing. “I spend any more time in this city and I may be sold on the stuff. Great vintage, I suspect?”

  Casper nodded his head toward Rhys. “Only the best for our guests.”

  Ben looked around the room, surprised to see Rhys here. He thought they’d send Saala with the ransom. The blademaster had an air of quiet intimidation about him. He’d be Ben’s pick to send into a hostile situation. His skill was likely to be known and respected by men such as these.

  Rhys, on the other hand, had weapons, but Ben had never seen him practice with them. He also had a habit of quickly finding his way to the nearest tavern. Ben knew he was hired by Lady Towaal so he must have some talent, but his haphazard and half-drunk manner didn’t seem the right fit for this situation. Case in point, when they walked in, he had a drink in hand and his knives and longsword were laid out on a couch across the room. After they entered, he strolled over and buckled his belts while maintaining his affable chit chat.